


Step One: Don't Look Like an Idiot

by The_Otter_Knight



Category: The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Awkward Aris, Awkward Flirting, College Student Aris, Confident Newt, Crush at First Sight, Dance Instructor Newt, M/M, The Thominho is off-screen but mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-28
Updated: 2016-01-28
Packaged: 2018-05-16 20:40:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5840227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Otter_Knight/pseuds/The_Otter_Knight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aris can't dance - at all. He's a flailing duck, all limbs and no tact. <i>Of course</i> his best friend and his best friend's boyfriend would set him up with some stupid dance lessons - except that the instructors is - 1) late [seriously, where is this guy?] 2) really hot, like enough for Aris to make a fool of himself like he always does, 3) really good at dancing, enough for Aris to be jealous.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Step One: Don't Look Like an Idiot

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lison](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lison/gifts).



The dance studio was pale, almost creamy white in color, with the stale musky smell of cobwebs and dust and cleaning detergent. There are mirrors lining the furthest wall, with some kind of pole lining the surface horizontally. It looked like a stereotypical ballet studio. Aris sets his bag down with a heavy _thunk_ , watching it slide across the glossy floor. He winces, thankful that it’s not him slipping like that.

Aris rubs his hands together breaths into his palms, even though he’s not particularly cold. He spots his reflection in the mirror, sees his shaggy hair flop across his brow. His usually olive skin is kind of pasty looking, and he has bags under his eyes from his studying for his college classes. He looks nothing short of tired, and no matter how many times he smacked his cheeks, nothing could get the blood flowing and making him look livelier. Not that he had anybody to look good for, that is.

He shoves his hands into his coat pocket, and he bites the inside of his cheek. He looks around, even though he has a clear view of the whole room. He checks his phone, looking at the time before letting out a breath through his nose. He wasn’t late – at least he didn’t think he was? Maybe he had the dates wrong? He checks his right palm, looking at his messy writing that he scrawled there and no, this was definitely the right date and time.

Aris takes another look around before quickly making his way across the room, his socked feet sliding slightly across the clean aluminum flooring before he catches himself. He’ll have to be careful, he decides. He presses his hands to the glass of the office adjoining the studio, and promptly tries to peer inside. It’s dark and hard to decipher anything in the murk, so he sighs heavily and takes a step back. 

“Of course,” he hisses out between his teeth. “I’ve been stood up. There’s nobody _here._ I swear I’m going to beat up Thomas and Minho – stupid boys.” He shakes his head, “Man, I can’t believe I let them do this to me.” He’s still muttering under his breath, “What a waste of my time and a bus ticket.”

“Excuse me, but what’s a waste?” There’s an accented voice behind him, and his heart leaps into his chest. His foot slips on the floor because of course it does. He smashes his elbow against the wall as he flails, trying to stop himself from falling, pinpricks blossoming through his arm quickly. 

“Shit!” is said at the same time as, “ _Bloody hell_! I didn’t mean to startle you!” Aris clutches his elbow, wincing at the unsettling feeling washes over him. The man who stood before him was tall and thin with ruffled blond hair and nice features, a clean towel draped across his shoulders and some kind of black skin-tight shirt bound across his defined chest as well as some sort of dark leggings. _Of course_ the person that Aris managed to make a fool out of himself in front of was attractive. 

“I’m okay,” he says, gritting his teeth and face flushing. “I just – um – I was looking for someone and I …” his tongue presses against the back of his teeth as he tries to think of words to say even though he’s going a hundred words a minute. “I’ll just get out of your way and I’m really sorry for disturbing you and oh _shit_ you probably heard what I said too I swear they’re really great friends but not right now okay and maybe-”

The tall blond frowns, shaking his head quickly. “Woah, hold on. You’re looking for someone?” His dark brown eyes are bright as he thinks something over quickly, and he tilts his head slightly, looking decidedly more adorable than he did before. “Are you here for the solo lesson?”

Aris squints, wondering what this beautiful boy was asking of him but he nods anyways, “Yes?”

The blond smiles and Aris almost dies right there because there is such a reassuring gesture behind that motion that he couldn’t help but adore. “Oh, that’s a bloody relief. I’m Newton Isaacs, but its just Newt. I’m your instructor for this lesson, and uh sorry for being late?” He quirks an eyebrow and the corner of his mouth tilts as his smile turns almost uneven.

 _Of course he heard my ranting,_ Aris curses out mentally as he continues to rub his fingers into his sore elbow. “Right. I’m Aris Jones, but you … probably knew that.” He rubs the back of his neck when he has enough feeling in his arm, resting his back against the window of the office. He laughs nervously, “I, um, if you caught some of what I said before I … my friends, they …”

He’s gradually becoming aware of Newt’s worried and deer-in-the-headlights look. He trails off and after a moment, Newt asks, “Am I making you nervous? You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to…”

“No, it’s just, you’re really attractive and I don’t know how to hang around attractive people,” Aris says quickly, then realizes what he’s said and promptly wants to toss himself through the office window. “And, for a fact, I’d love to dance with you. Very much.” He bites the corner of his bottom lip and averts his gaze slightly.

Newt lets out an almost relieved laugh; sounding breathless and carefree and Aris almost swore he fell in love just then. “Oh, well, thank you; you’re very attractive too, Aris,” he smiles and Aris flushes. “But if you’d like, we could get started on this lesson? I mean,” he pauses, “your _friends_ have already paid for this lesson, so…”

“Yeah, right,” Aris nods, perhaps a bit too quickly. He pushes himself off and away from the wall and forces a smile, biting the nervousness down.

Newt’s eyes rake him up and down before he smiles teasingly, “Please tell me you brought something else to wear.” He pauses then frowns at Aris’ sheepish grin. “Alright, I don’t have any spares, so we’ll have to make due.” Then, quickly, “Do you know how to waltz?”

“I-“ Aris stammers and Newt laughs again, clapping him on the shoulder. The blond tosses the towel that was wound across his neck somewhere across the room.

“Don’t worry, that’s what this lesson is for.” He holds out his hand. “Are you ready, Aris?”

“I don’t know what-“ Newt laughs and grabs onto Aris’ hands. Aris feels heat flush through him; Newt’s palms felt smaller than Aris’ own, but his fingers seemed lengthy and thin like a pianists’. In fact, the whole of Newt was scrawny, thin and lanky with a towering height over Aris. Newt moves his hands, slides one of Aris’ up to his shoulder. Aris lowers his gaze, trying not to tense in surprise or ‘accidentally’ feel up the other’s lithe muscles. “Relax.”

“You’re not exactly helping,” he breaths out, sarcastic and quick even though his arms twinge with embarrassment. Newt’s laughter is almost breathless in response.

“Sorry, sorry,” he smiles, “Just focus on me, okay. Look up at my face for a second, okay?” Aris unwillingly looks up and into the face of the angular boy - high cheekbones and a gentle nose and thin eyebrows. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“No, I just,” Aris stops, wondering if they’re just going on a loop about this, about whether or not Aris wanted to dance with the Britishman. “Stop asking me that, Newt.” He lowers his gaze, sliding his hand elsewhere, further down in an attempt to get himself out of this – namely the girl’s position, he knew that - but Newt only lets out a quick laugh and grabs a hold of Aris’ hands again. 

“Okay, listen. For this lesson, you will not try to distract me. Right now, we’re just going to work on the beginnings of the steps. I’m trying to show you where your hands go, so please stop bloody moving them, you git.” Aris sticks his tongue out of the corner of his mouth, making a nonsensical sound. Newt securely wraps his hands around Aris’ wrists, strong and sure, before he carefully and purposefully moves them up to his shoulder whereas for the other he lets it remained clasped beside them. “Alright, now, this position is interchangeable,” he says, “Where your hands are now is where the girl’s hands would go.” He makes a show out of moving his hand that once grasped Aris’ wrist and settles it along the small cleft of Aris’ waist, where the flesh was tender between rib and hip. “In reverse position, our roles would be switched, like so.” He exchanges Aris’ hands around, before he smiles, “But for this, you’re going to be in the girl’s role because you’re shorter.”

“I guess,” Aris protests, feeling unease prick at the back of his neck, and Newt gives a quick shrug of his shoulders before taking a step back and away from the heat of Aris’ body.

“Alright, so the steps of the Waltz is kind of complicated for a beginner but we’ll try our best. I only have about an hour and a half left with you so we’ll have to make the most of it, so pay attention.” Newt slowly takes a step back then plants his other foot beside his, then moves in a pattern to the side. He repeats, his hands firmly placed in the air as he continues to demonstrate, pretending to be holding a dance partner. 

“Okay, I think I got it,” he says, not sounding sure but maybe just wanting to be close to the tall blond instead.

Newt’s eyebrows raise for a moment before he nods, a quick mutter of ‘if you say so’ before he swoops back in, his hand wrapping around Aris’ waist quick enough to pull him closer. Aris feels his mouth go dry at how solid and warm Newt feels against him, their chests brushing before Newt smiles almost apologetically and takes a half step back so that there’s a breath width of space between them, but they’re undeniably close.

“All right, nice and slow now, Aris,” Newt says, looking down into Aris’ face while the other looks down at the ground. He hadn’t even been aware that he _liked_ British accents, Aris realizes, mouth tugging into a frown. “You can at least pretend to look happy about dancing with me.” There’s a tease to his words, almost engulfed by the slight tilt of his words but he’s not unkind.

Instead of responding, Aris makes a point of stepping heavily on Newt’s foot, earning a startle wince from him. “You’re the one who said we only have so much time,” he says innocently at Newt’s affronted look.

Newt aggressively tugs onto Aris’ hand, pulling him into the steps, almost causing for the younger to trip. “H-hey,” he hiccups out but tries to, messily, follow Newt’s previous instructions. After the initial tug, Newt is anything but fast, instead letting Aris try to get the hang of the movements. 

He can’t even deny that it was difficult, trying to keep pace despite how slow the elder was going, that the slide of his feet across the floor wasn’t easy because of his socks, which he silently wished that he had taken off previously.

“So,” Newt begins, fingers pressing into Aris’ side, “Mind telling me why your friends – the Asian and the other one – were signing you up for classes? I mean, it must have been a joke for them, they were giggling like lunatics.”

Aris snorts at the comment, glad for the small talk, “Minho’s the Asian guy you probably saw. Thomas is his boyfriend and my best friend, although it’s kind of up for debate now. We do all kinds of different things to get the ‘full college experience’.” He raised the pitch of his voice as best as he could because he couldn’t use his hands as quotation marks. “Uh, for example, Minho once used cucumber and a pineapple to help dress himself like a mermaid and was supposed to make some kind of lewd video. I didn’t understand the joke, but Thomas would not stop freaking out. Thomas, though, oh god, he was once dared to pants Dr. Janson, okay – the psych teacher – and it was … I think he needed to go to therapy for that. Thank goodness I wasn’t there.”

There’s a rising smile on Newt’s face, “Sounds like a rowdy bunch – and a lot of fun. Taking a dance lesson sounds pretty tame compared to that. Almost makes me wish I went to college still.”

Aris steps back when Newt stops forward and he frowns, “What? You mean you’re not in college right now? You look like you could be seventeen!” He stares in exasperation, “Oh man, how _old_ are you? The babyface is really throwing me off.”

Newt makes a sound at the back of his throat like he’s displeased. “Yes, very funny. I’m twenty-five, you twat. I kind of am in college, though; I’m going to Wicked’s School of Fine Arts for dance and theatre. As a part of my course, I have to help out with a local dance studio, not that I wouldn’t anyways.”

Aris feels a flush creep up on his face. It wouldn’t be illegal to hit on Newt, not with Aris being nineteen, but still, that age difference seemed almost daunting. “Stop thinking so hard, you can almost see steam coming out of your ears,” Newt smiles kindly. “Mind telling me what’s on your mind?”

“I think you’re really hot,” he blurts out without hesitation, registering the way that Newt stops and his eyes widen. “And I just don’t know how to handle that because you’re my dance instructor and you’re six years older than me.” He barely contained the word vomit that left his lips, “And now I think that I might try to rope my friend Gally into beating up Minho and Thomas because I really didn’t need a crush on a complete stranger.” He feels sick and queasy, his stomach churning and his palms suddenly feeling warm. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to pour that all on you,” he says, nervously, his hand squeezing Newt’s, prompting him to continue the dance.

Newt, however, seemed to have missed Aris’ memo because he instead says, “I’m single and gay.” 

“W-what?” Aris stutters out, all flailing limbs as he tries to catch himself as he fumbles over his two left feet in surprise. Newt’s hand is reassuring on the small of his back and his eyes are impossibly bright.

“I said that I’m gay – and single,” Newt continues confidently before shooting Aris a sly smile. “I’m telling you that so you don’t feel bad about hitting on me because I’ll probably return the favour.” It’s suddenly very warm where Newt’s hands are placed, a sensation churning the inside lining of Aris’ stomach. “Also, I’m making mention that I’m free on Friday at three, just in case you want to go on a date. Then maybe I wouldn’t be a ‘complete stranger’.”

Aris is distantly aware that he’s stopped moving, his jaw going slack. “I, um, yeah, that’d be really,” he stammers out, “Yeah, of course. I mean, if you’ll go on a date with me, I’ll definitely go on one with you and, um. S-shit.” He presses his tongue to the back of his teeth, breathing through his nose quickly. “I’m sorry, I’m bad at this. I’d love to.”

Newt’s smile reaches his eyes and he nods thankfully, “It’s a date.” He presses his lips to Aris’ cheek, lips slightly dry but the fact that the blond had even done it had left his nerves frazzled. “But first…” he moves his mouth to Aris’ ear, his breath warm. “I think I’d like to finish this dance with you." 

Aris couldn’t agree more.


End file.
